


Letters From War

by MrsAlwaysWrite



Series: Eye Candy [3]
Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Jealous!Ron, Romantic Fluff, Sexy Times, Trains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:27:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27611345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsAlwaysWrite/pseuds/MrsAlwaysWrite
Summary: Part 3 of Eye Candy seriesCan Ron and reader continue their "relationship" or will leaving America bring it to an end?
Relationships: Ronald Speirs/Original Female Character(s), Ronald Speirs/Reader
Series: Eye Candy [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018630
Kudos: 13





	Letters From War

Sunlight filtered through the lacy curtains, casting the hotel room in a soft glow. A subtle ticking of the clock was the loudest sound in the room. Laying there in the silky sheets felt divine. No one was screaming orders outside of the barracks as they ran their platoon. One of my fellow nurses was not shuffling around inside trying to be quiet but failing as they slammed their stuff on a cot or on the hard floor. No, it was blissfully quiet. Something I had not realized how much I missed until I started my training at Camp Toccoa and was constantly surrounded by others. 

I rolled over onto my side, eyes bleary from having just woken up. Peeking at the clock on the far wall, I could see the little hand pointing at the eleven. Not what I was hoping to see. My weekend pass meant I did not have to be back to base until this evening but if I did not get up now, I might go AWOL just to lounge around in these sheets with the sunlight warming me. 

I groaned quietly as I sat up, the soft sheets sliding down my naked body. There was a freeing feeling with sleeping naked. Not that I did it often. Or ever. But the few times I had...I could see the appeal of it being a regular occurrence. Especially with these sheets. Were they made from cherub’s wings? Nothing could be as soft and silky as these sheets. I promised myself after the war, if I made it, I would buy myself a set. Something to look forward to. 

As quietly as I could, I slid my legs over the side of the bed, ready to stand up when a deep, gravelly voice stilled my movements. 

"Where you think you're goin'?" 

I smiled at how perturbed he sounded. Glancing over my shoulder, he still lay on his stomach, arms tucked under his pillow, face buried in it. It was amazing he did not accidentally suffocate himself. "Ron, it's eleven already."

He grumbled, words muffled by the pillow. "So?"

"We need to get up soon."

"You said that two hours ago when we woke up."

"And yet, we're still in bed."

"Mmm…" He tipped his head to the side so one of his half-lidded eyes could glare at me. "I don't see the problem."

"Well some of us can't be lazy like...Ahhh!!" I squealed when an arm snaked around my waist and pulled me back, moving far too fast for someone who just supposedly woke up. Abruptly, I found myself with my head back on the pillow and a broody Lieutenant hovering over me. His bare chest was only inches above mine; and although I could not see it, I could feel that he had not put his Army issued skivvy back on. Just that realization alone bloomed a warmth in my belly. 

"You were saying?" He said with a smug look. 

"We need to get up."

"Mmm…" He slowly inched his head down, meeting my eyes until his lips trailed down my neck, leaving butterfly kisses. 

Without a conscious thought, I tilted my neck to the side, giving him better access. My arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer, loving being under his touch. A small part of my brain berated me for not getting up while I still could. There were things I had planned on doing with my day. But an open mouth kiss on my collarbone caused a moan to fall from my lips and all thoughts of escaping his hold to fly away. 

"You were saying?" He repeated. 

Through the slowly growing, lust-fuel haze in my mind, I tried to remember why it was so important to leave the bed. "Was I?"

He chuckled, the feeling of it reverberating in my chest. With a quick peck to my lips, he laid his head on my chest, half his body weight on me and an arm wrapped around my waist possessively. I started carding my fingers through his hair, humming softly as we lay there together. The sheets were rumpled around his waist, the only thing keeping me warm was his body. A peacefulness descended. Something very rare in preparation for war. It only encouraged neither one of us to leave the bed, else that peace vanish and reality sink back in. We laid there silently for some time, the only sounds being our breathing and the ticking of the clock.

My thoughts swirled in my mind about the coming weeks. So many unknowns lay before us, like a minefield that we had to walk through. We just had to keep moving forward.

"We leave on the train tomorrow." I stated, staring up at the ceiling. My fingers continued carding through his hair. I would never tell a soul but I knew the feeling immediately relaxed him. Whenever I started doing it, he would practically go limp on me and lay there like a cat sunbathing. 

"Mmm."

"Do you know where we are going?"

"Yes."

I swatted him lightly on the shoulder. Of course, he knew. He had the uncanny ability to always be where information was being shared, even if it was not directly relevant to him. It would not surprise me if he snuck into the intelligence officers' offices at night and peeked through their papers. Though I would never tell him that. Plausible deniability is a glorious thing. 

When he refused to answer, I swatted him again. Immediately, he growled and nipped at the valley between my breasts, making me squeak. Before I could incite or escape his further wrath, he settled himself back on top of me. When I made no further move, he roughly grabbed my hand and placed it back on the top of his head. I smirked up at the ceiling, and followed his silent order. Perhaps in a past life he had been a cat. It would explain some of the moodiness. 

"Tell me." My fingers slipped through his hair, occasionally scraping his scalp, making him hum. "Please."

"I overheard Nixon talking to Sink." He tilted his head to look at me, those dark, piercing eyes meeting mine. "New York."

I connected the dots in my head. "Europe?"

He made no reply as he continued to stare at me, rubbing his thumb along my ribs.

"Can I write to you?"

I felt him stiffen slightly. We had never defined what was between us. Obviously there was attraction and passion, the bruises on my hips and the half-moon indents on his back attested to that. Yet there was also a peaceful companionship I think neither of us expected. He would listen to me ramble about things we learned in class and different techniques to use in the field or the silly things my friends and I had done. On the rare occasion he would vent about one of his men and their stupidity. But I knew he was trying not to make attachments. There was a solid steel wall around his heart he had raised as soon as he stepped foot in Camp Toccoa. He knew his superiors would die. His men would die. He could possibly die. It would be easier to not know their hopes and dreams, their stories and fears. There was one thing we both knew but never acknowledged. 

Somehow, I was the exception to his rule.

As we laid there, I tried not to let his silence bother me. I knew it was a long shot to even ask him. I would not be entirely surprised if he said no. We were not even sure that our paths would cross again. I was to be stationed as a nurse for the paratroopers but it had not been finalized for which battalion. 

Finally he spoke, looking just over my head the whole time he had been thinking. "Let me think about it."

"Um, ok… well if I meet some other fella who sweeps me off my feet and writes…"

He leaned up and kissed me soundly, interrupting my potential future plan. 

"You can't just kiss me to keep me from talking. That's rude." I huffed when he finally allowed me to breathe again. 

"No." He stated flatly.

"No? You don't want me writing to someone else, no? I've already had a few soldiers ask if they could write to me."

"No."

"Ron, that's not how this works. If you don't want me writing to you, that tells me you're done with me. I don't do one-night stands."

He quirked an eyebrow, stupid smirk on those kissable lips. 

I blushed, swatting him again. "You know what I mean." This was not our first rendezvous together where we snuck away from others while on a weekend pass. 

He sighed, dropping his head back on my chest. "And if something happens to me."

"Then I'll mourn but I'll keep doing my job. Who knows? I might even miss you."

He chuckled then lay quietly. I thought he had fallen asleep until he spoke up, so softly I almost did not catch it. "No one was supposed to miss me."

"Mmm," I hummed, tracing the muscles on his back with my finger. In a spur of the moment decision, I decided to be honest, my whisper hanging in the air above us. "Too late...I don't think I can help it now."

We lay there contently for a time, just basking in our own thoughts, the warmth of the morning sun and each other's body. 

"Ron, we really need to get up…. stop ignoring me."

He grumbled then suddenly rolled fully on top of me, pressing open-mouth kisses on my neck and chest. "One more."

"How do you have the energy for one more? Christ! Is it possible to die from so many orgasms?"

He froze, slowly his eyes met mine. I knew that look. 

"No...no, Ron, NO! That wasn't a challenge...please, oh, shit!" 

As I tried to wiggle away from him, he pinned my hips down with his arm and with that dark, seductive look which sent my heart racing, he lowered his face to where I could feel myself throbbing for him. 

Needless to say, we did not leave that bed until the afternoon. 

*****

The train car rattled along the track, the forests and open fields of the East Coast passed by in a blur. Honestly, at this point I had no idea what state we were even in. Somewhere on our way to New York. Then troopship. Then England. 

Soon war. 

It was a weird feeling. We had been training and preparing for it. Gathering all the knowledge we could and practicing saving lives until our backs cramped from being bent over pretend bodies and our fingers almost bled from the constant chafing of bandages, syringes and textbooks against them. Yet now on the cusp of war, I felt wholly unprepared. 

Pushing the thought away, I rubbed my tired eyes. I picked up my pencil, continuing to try and write a letter to my folks back home before one of the girls found me. I had been sitting in a train car with Lucy, Mary and Rebecca. After a while of listening to them gossip and talk amongst themselves and with the other nurses nearby, I decided to step away. I claimed I needed the quiet to write my letter. Truthfully, I just needed some quiet. I loved those ladies but Christ could they be LOUD. 

Staring at the paper in my lap, words seemed to fail. How do I tell my family about everything I was preparing for? All my fears? All my hopes? All my worries? Do I lie and pretend everything is alright? 

"Keep it simple." I muttered. With a sharp inhale, my pencil met the paper. 

_Dear Dad and Mom,_

_I hope everyone is doing well. I miss everyone. Sometimes I find myself thinking about home and wonder how soon it'll be till I see it. And you guys, of course._

_My friends are doing well. Mary has been showing off a picture of her newest nephew to all the nurses. I don’t know how I would have survived all this training without them. They help keep my spirits up during this time. And do not worry, dad, no one has proposed yet. Well, this week at least. There will be no ring on my finger until the war is over._

_Just last week we were learning about different types--_

"This spot taken?" A rough, rasping voice asked, disturbing my concentration. 

I looked up to see a paratrooper standing at the end of my bench seat. I was surprised but wondered if maybe he just needed a space away from his buddies. Most of the other benches and seats were filled up with paratroopers in this train car, a good amount of them sleeping, writing their own letters or gambling. The few voices eased into the background as I sat there, making me momentarily forget I was not actually alone. 

"No, it's open." I slid further down, closer to the window. Across from me was a different paratrooper I thought I recognized from Fox Company. He had been in a deep sleep even before I sat across from him, if the small puddle of drool and soft snores said anything. 

"Thank you, ma'am. It's damn near impossible to find a quiet spot on this train." He dropped down onto the bench, removing his garrison cap. 

I hummed, returning my eyes to the letter. Maybe I should not mention the proposals, even if they were all in jest. Though thinking about them brought up images of a pair of intense, dark eyes and strong hands that had come to know my body almost as well as I did. A blush warmed my cheeks at the thought. 

It had been several weeks since we first began seeing each other. In public, we continued in our separate roles. Ron was not one for public affection, even if he always glared a hole in the head of any man he caught talking with me. I had heard through the rumor mill that word spread- I was Speirs' girl, even if no one ever saw us interact in that way. If Speirs purposefully started the rumor or my friends did after seeing the hickeys he left on my neck the first time... either way, the flirting and catcalls involving me dropped to a minimum. 

In private, when we could sneak away or secretly meet up...he had no problem showering physical affection on me until I was seeing stars and melted into a puddle in his arms. 

I wondered where he was on the train. Before I got on, I caught a glimpse of him directing some of his men on the platform. There were so many unknowns for us. My own feelings for him had grown like weeds since he kissed me. Part of me knew it was trouble. We were heading into war where nothing was certain. Yet the other part of me craved him. He was like no man I had ever known before. With one glimpse of him, my heart practically beat out of my chest. In his arms was quickly becoming my favorite place to be. I loved how there was never a need to fill the silence while with him. 

Was this love?

I shot that thought down before it could plant anywhere. Last time I talked to Ron, he never confirmed if I could even write to him. I knew being with me was not easy for him. Although he never explicitly said it, I wondered if he thought he was going to die during the war. 

That rasping voice interrupted me once again. "I'm John Billings, Private first class, Baker Company."

"Nurse Y/L/N." I nodded, glancing at him. Short, cropped blond hair, vibrant blue eyes, dimple on one cheek and broad shoulders. If he was inclined, he looked like he could bench-press me. He was attractive...but I was not interested. 

"Ah, come on, you not gonna tell me your first name?"

I shrugged, still keeping my gaze on my letter, hoping he would take the hint. 

Apparently not. 

"Any guesses on where we're heading? One of my buddies thinks Africa. I think we're headed to Italy or something like that. Either way, Nazis are gonna regret starting this thing when we come in and fucking finish it." He laughed. When I did not respond, he slid a little closer, legs spread wide like he owned the bench seat. "Where you from? You sound kinda like my ma."

"I don't think that's your business."

"Hey, doll, no reason to get upset. I'm just making small talk."

"Well, I'm trying to write a letter."

"Alright, I get it. I'll leave ya alone." He laid his arms on the back of the bench, on either side of him, staring towards the front of the train car. His hand lay right behind my shoulders, almost touching them. 

I rolled my eyes. 

Several more minutes went by and finally I finished my letter. Well, at least I could not think of anything else to write home about. I folded it up, stashing it and my pencil back into my satchel to mail once we reached New York. My last letter written in America. That thought scared me more than I cared to admit. 

"Letter to a sweetheart?"

"No," I replied. "Letter home."

He nodded. "I need to do that myself or my ma will find me no matter where we are and spank me with her wooden spoon."

I could not help the giggle that bubble up at the image evoked. "That sounds like my grandmother. I swear even the devil is terrified of her."

He laughed loudly, throwing his head back, eyes crinkling. 

We both stilled when our sleeping companion shifted in his seat, running a hand over his face. Just as soon as he began moving, he stopped once again, snores filling the air. 

I looked back out the window, watching the countryside pass. How soon would it be before I saw America again after I left? Would I ever? How much longer could this war drag on for? How different would I be when I returned home? Would my family even recognize me?

"So, you gonna tell me your name yet, beautiful?" My other companion teased, sliding slightly closer. 

Before I could open my mouth, a deep, husky voice spoke, sending shivers down my spine. "That's Nurse to you, Private."

I looked over to see Ron standing in the walkway, arms crossed. His signature glare aimed at the paratrooper next to me. Death in his eyes. 

My companion froze under the intense look, like prey just waiting for the predator's jaws to rip them apart. "Yes...ah, yes, sir."

"I suggest you find yourself another seat."

The Private scrambled out of his seat without a backward glance at me, mumbling something at Ron before briskly walking away and finding a seat further up the train car. 

"A[www…](http://www...i). I think you scared him away."

Ron stared at me for a moment before glancing around and settling into the seat just vacated. "Why aren't you with the other nurses?"

"Just needed some quiet for a minute so I could write a letter home."

He raised an eyebrow. That man could carry entire conversations with just his facial expressions. 

"The Private came after I was already sitting." I explained, knowing that was what he wanted to know.

He seemed to think it over before taking my hand in his. Something he had never done in public before. A small smirk teased his lips as he entwined our fingers. "Did you write home about me?"

"No. Should I have?"

He sat there quietly, rubbing his thumb on the back of my hand. 

"I thought about it." I admitted, looking at our hands. Though I could feel the heavy weight of his gaze on my face, I did not meet it. "But… I did not want… they would think then…"

"I want you to write me."

My head shot up, eyes wide and lips parted. "Really? Are you sure?"

He mock-glared at me.

"Will you write me back?"

To my endless surprise, he leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to my lips, leaving me speechless. "I'll think about it." He winked before getting up and smoothing back out his impeccable Class A uniform. "I'll find you when we arrive."

"Ok." I answered meekly, my brain trying to understand what just happened. 

With one more longing look, he nodded and started back down the train car, disappearing just as quickly as he appeared. 

He wanted me to write him...and he would write back! 

And he kissed me. 

In public! 

To anyone else it may seem insignificant but for me...this was monumental. He was claiming me as his girl. Not just rumors anymore. It was ridiculous how my heart swelled at the thought. 

A softly spoken "damn" made my head whip round to see the Private who had been sleeping now staring at me with eyes as big as saucers and mouth hanging open slightly. 

"Damn." I echoed back, touching my lips, still in shock. 

I was such a goner for him. Though, I could not find it anywhere in myself to be upset about that. 


End file.
